


Are You For Shores?

by BadRomantic



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Shores is the total switch of A. Ham, Hamilton is nothing less then a dork, Multi, Reincarnation AU, Ruined Debate Club, These dorks are in college, Thomas stop being rude you're just jealous you can't write 29 pages, Vote for Ship, Zombie Apocalypse mentioned, thanks Hamilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadRomantic/pseuds/BadRomantic
Summary: Alexander Shores is a comfortable, low-key college student. His life was normal and not-so-exciting, just how he liked it... least until three men, claiming to be Thomas Jefferson, Aaron Burr and George Washington kick down his door and claim that he is Alexander Hamilton.//VOTE//





	

Alexander Shores was tired and simply not ready to put in the effort he needed to for the rest of the day. As he exited his last class of the day, he recalled the tedious assignment he was given (a ten pages essay) and the prolonged lecture his professor gave that was so boring that Alexander had contemplated leaving then and there or falling asleep to make a point. However, he was sure that had he fallen asleep, he would have been kicked out of class and the professor would have given him a second lecture about respect instead of Astrophysics. Alexander stifled his own sigh by gritting his teeth on the mint gum he had popped in his mouth a few minutes ago.

That all was done now, he was free from the tight chains his class held sacred and was walking to a club that was newly founded a few days ago. It was a debate club. He didn't talk much, let alone debate with anyone. He simply didn't see it worth his time trying to conform others opinions or even get his across; his opinion was his own, their opinion was theirs. 

_Even if they were wrong,_  Alexander thought slyly.

Besides, the debate club was filled with many loud-mouthed college students who wanted to fight over something dumb (like traffic laws-- seriously, who cares?) and Alexander wouldn't mind some material for his blog to write on. His blog was dearly important; it was a place for himself to rant about topics or simply just lay back and idly gaze at posts his followers have reblogged or uploaded themselves. Alexander very rarely uploaded his own work, save for the few times to allows himself to upload his rants, and he found it admirable that others would show their art or opinions to the world; open and vulnerable to slander. 

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling his computer bag up to give it a sturdy balance on his shoulder. He just needed to locate room 221, and then settle himself in the background and watch. Surely something sooner or later will acquire his attention, and if it doesn't, he can simply sign off the club and find another one. 

Alexander abruptly paused himself, looking to the door with a bright pink sign and neat, purple marker font written on it that read DEBATE CLUB with starts, dots, and a poor excuse of smiley faces around it with thick black lines angled downward to give the smiley faces a childishly sinister appearance. Alexander didn't exactly understand the need for all the drawings, but he thought they were cute and welcoming so he forgave it and instead smiled at the sign. This was a special type of welcome, but he was beginning to have his second thoughts about the event. Should he head back? Certainly he can just spend this time writing up the essay Mr. Logan had assigned and finish it early.

_You signed up for it, the least you can do is go to one class,_ Alexander scolded himself, sliding his gaze to the side. Alright; he would go to one session of it. That would give him a taste of the debate club experience.

He pushed the door open, walking in and let it shut behind him with a windy thump as he studied the crowd of students. He slowly looked around, taking in the way the students were seemingly socially categorized. Nerds with nerds; jocks with jocks, the rest of the usual gig Alexander didn't really like to acknowledge. He didn't fit anywhere in the social class of education. He was smart, but he didn't like talking to people, and he was a little bit too dismissive to conversations when people did try to approach him.

When Alexander caught sight of the name tag that were settled on a small table in a messy pile with an assortment of pens beside it. The pens looked dull and old, especially the one with a end on it. He decided to just use his own favourite pen, plucking it out of his bag and stepping up and leaned forward to pick a name card and write down his name in his normal small, cursive writing. 

 

_ Alexander "Alex" Logan Shores. _

 

He figured the small font would discourage people to come at him and invoke a conversation; which is simply what he wanted. He took the name tag and connected it to his gray jacket after flattening it out. He set his pen back into his bag, walking to the sides of the group to border them and eavesdrop on their conversations. Surely something they said could hint to him what he should be expecting of tonight?

"Thomas is gonna eat the newbies alive!"

"Thomas is a dick, but he isn't evil." 

"That's actually the dictionary definition of what a dick is; evil." 

"Guys don't sweat it, we got Sharron-" "It's Aaron, dude, get it right. He'd sock you if he heard that."

"I don't think we're thinking of the same Aaron."

Alexander found himself holding back giggles, lifting a brow. He guess he should have expected his peers to be playful about this event; they could hardly take school seriously and they were paying for it. He strained his ears to listen to a more subtle conversation, picking up the soft voices after a long moment of focusing.

"It has to be him, Thomas." 

"No kiddin', y'see his friggin' name tag? What a dork. He's just as-"

_"Thomas."_

"I wasn't gonna say anything mean!"

"Hard to believe."

"Shut up Aaron,"

Alexander straightened his back, picking up on the dynamic of the voices instantly. This was obviously Thomas Johnson and Aaron Bore speaking to one another. Those two were the smartest in the school, well, actually, he was, but they were closely behind and Alexander always caught himself looking up to them. What were they doing here?

"Gentlemen, stay on topic,"

"Sorry,"

"Fuck it, I'mma prove to ya'll that he's Hamilton." 

Alexander perked excitedly, eyes rounding. George Peterson was here too-- he was very well liked, well known for his rivalry with another kid in their school. Alexander couldn't help himself, he turned his head over and swallowed down the nervous lump in his throat as he watched the three stroll to the middle of the crowd. 

"Hey!" Thomas's voice boomed, catching Alexander off guard and causing his body to jump out of surprise. He's never heard Johnson yell. He rushed to swerve himself past people, wanting to see what they were doing. 

Thomas had his hands on his hips, glancing around proudly as the noise died down. "We obviously don't have shit for chairs or anything, so ya'll gonna have to sit down on the floor. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

Alexander smiled, trailing his eyes to George and Aaron, both of whom standing by Thomas but closer to each other. Aaron was mumbling about something, whilst George seemed to be listening to him and trailing his eyes through the crowd of students as they began to settle down. Alexander quickly followed their lead, getting comfortable and perked when he and George Peterson locked eyes. Instantly, he was compelled to nod. He gave a nervous, short dip of his head and felt relief flood when George smiled and nodded back. It was incredible to think that people like them could be at this school; they were simply one of a kind. He straightened out his back and watched Aaron and George slowly settle down, Thomas following suit after making sure his orders were completely followed. 

"Well, now that we're starting, I'd simply like to give a quick briefing. This club is obviously for debating, y'join in when you feel obligated too. That's self explanatory, hm?" Thomas flashed a grin.

Alexander smiled right after Thomas, agreeing instantly. That was self explanatory; he was definitely correct.

"Next time we meet up, we'll have chairs, I swear." Johnson said, glancing around to probably mock malicious intent and yet still show off his unbelievably fluent confidence, "M'er pick someone to start randomly, Y'know, for the fact that this is one of the first meetings 'n' such."

Alexander glanced around as he heard mumbles of agreement, a few voices sounding anxious of being picked. He brushed off their anxiety that threatened him, deciding that there was about a 1/40 chance of him being picked-- 

"Alexander "Alex" Logan Shores, would you like to start?"

He had to take a moment to fully comprehend that Thomas was talking to him. He blinked in surprise, looking to the man that stared down at him predatorily and glanced around quickly. That was probably the first time anybody has heard him be addressed, certainly looked like it with the way some kids stared at him and others seemed to lean over to their friends to ask who he was. A lump in his throat formed as he slowly looked back to Thomas, blinking slowly.

"I- uh, I don't..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straight and wondered how nervous he appeared, "I came here to just observe a-and--"

"I'm not asking, Alexander." Thomas's voice was suggestive, as though he was taunting him just through those four words. The tone he placed on his name was harsh, like he's practiced and practiced saying it just the way he had. A habit, perhaps. "Did you join debate club without something to debate?"

Alexander bristled, though kept himself foolishly calm,  _"Okay,"_ What could he say that'll piss off Thomas? He was expecting him to bring up something political, perhaps, which Alexander couldn't care less about. He squared his shoulders, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. What would keep people from remembering him but also determine a conversation? It needed to be something idiotic...

"Could the human race survive a zombie attack?" He asked finally, lifting a brow.

Thomas blinked in surprise, completely dropping his facial expression and his eyes seemed to loose their stone-cold look and turn into confusion, "What-?" 

Whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut into, because evidently some people in the club had already thought about this longer then Alexander had been aware. Five immediately snapped at one another, practically biting off each-others heads as they argued over Zombie speed versus human intellect. Alexander watched the debate curiously, noting how some kids seemed just as in shock as Thomas had been, but they lightened up and joined along in the debate.

_That's nice to see,_  Alexander thought, smiling to himself, people joining conversation and defending a subject.

Alexander adverted his attention to Thomas, watching him snap his eyes in exasperation to George and Aaron, Thomas's jaw dropped with disgust and shock plastered on his face. Aaron looked a little sheepish, glancing around rapidly and seemed to take in the scene for what it was while George simply threw a hand to cover his face and grinned widely, seemingly fighting off a laugh. Alexander grinned to himself in satisfaction, standing up from his post and hopped over people.

As he left the room, he tossed his name-tag into the trashcan. He found out how Debate club works, he single-handedly turned it's serious atmosphere into something playful, and he was feeling pretty dang good about himself in this moment. He allowed himself to have this victory, putting his hands into his pocket and walked to his dorm room with his head high. 

Hell yeah, +1 for Shores.

* * *

The sound of keys being tapped into a laptop keyboard were stringed out in beats, almost like morse code if you were really fast and didn't actually know morse code but instead were just trying to see how fast you could click into something in the span of a minute. Alexander's had the pleasure of knowing the fastest he had gone was 430 beats/letters per minute. Alexander had been glued to his computer for the longest time since he had escaped the room of the debate club, sometimes taking time to reflect on what he had done but overall ignoring the slight guilt he felt. Thomas was tempting him; he shouldn't be feeling bad for doing something that was necessary for him to defend himself. Alexander nodded to himself, confirming how he felt was idiotic and what he did was justifiable.

Alexander leaned back when he got through rereading his essay for the fourth time, putting it through five different grammar checks along with his recollecting and readdressing the way he worded things. He was sure he'd get an A on this assignment, even if he finished it within the span of two hours. Alexander looked over to the clock, watching the second hand click around in a pleasant rhythm. It was three minutes before 5:30, which meant that he had a good thirty-three minutes before the library would be off limits to himself.

He stood up, quickly sending his paper to print at the library and rushed to pick up his computer back and search for a clip. As he scourged his desk drawers, he heard a patter of paws on the floor, then the soft thud of the cushion of the couch in the corner of his one-person dorm room. Alexander looked back in surprise, scoffing when he saw his young kitten, Finch, sprawled out on said couch, her face firmly planted upside down so that her throat was open but her eyes were smooshed into the couch cushion. Her paws were pushed in front of her, tail flicking back and forth comfortably. Alexander sighed, turning his head away and looked for the clip again.

"You're suppose to be playing instead of sleeping around, young lady," He scolded playfully, flashing a quick glance to the gray-and-white she-cat. She flipped her body, staring at him quizzically before sitting up straight and twitching her whispers. Alexander could feel her sass from her posture. He laughed, moving to her and raised a hand to gently rub her under her chin, reeling in pleasure as she instantly roared a purr and turned her head to help guide his strokes to rub just where she wanted him too.

"I'll buy some cat-food, okay? Maybe some of the soft kind." He said quietly, wanting to ease her tension and leaned down to press his lips into her head in a soft kiss. He removed his hand begrudgingly, turning to leave and took in her loud meow as a  _goodbye._ As he shut the door, he mentally noted himself to buy cat-food, cat litter, and maybe some groceries. He's getting a little tired living off water and fruit snacks.

He scurried a little quickly to the library, worried that someone might snatch his paper and run off with it. That happened once and boy did he regret it. That was definitely not a good day for him when he had to explain to his professor why he and some other mooch handed in the same essay. As he walked into the library, he paused abruptly to see a tall fellow with bushy hair on the alert, holding his work and scanning it. Alexander exclaimed, rushing forward and skidded to a halt when he realized who was reading _his_ essay. Thomas Johnson.

"Sir," Alexander said without thinking.

"You  _still_ write ten pages worth of things that can be summed up in two." He hummed, peering over to Alexander with a curious stare.

"It's double spaced?" Alexander joked back. His voice didn't necessarily hit him as taunting, just being honest about his opinion. He reached forward to scoop up the rest of the printed paper, holding it to his chest and watched Thomas scan the words comfortably, as though he was used to reading his dialogue. Which simply was an idiotic assumption; that would be impossible. Alexander has never read his word aloud, now has he published it anonymously anywhere. Sure, he's ranted on his social media, but that was simple just two or three paragraphs because he knew the importance of getting your point across quickly there. 

"Wow, I didn't notice!" Thomas replied simply, lifting a brow mockingly, "How many pages is this?"

"About twenty-nine." Alexander recalled.

"You're kidding?" Johnson looked up, surprise flickering on his face before he collected himself and pulled off a crude stare, "Why not just press it to thirty?"

"Three pages were citations, I think it would be pushing it if I just made it to thirty." Alexander explained, suddenly more then extremely aware that he was talking to Thomas Johnson. The single-handedly best debater in school, intelligent and livid. He swallowed thickly, adverting his gaze away and at the floor. How does he react to this situation?

"May I have those pages back...?" He asked. His eyes trailed back forward when Thomas held out the packet. He raised his hand to grab it timidly, assorting them in the correct order and dug in his back for the clip. "Thank you, Johnson."

"It's Jefferson." Thomas's voice suddenly grew hard, drawing Alexander's eyes to him in a matter of seconds, "Thomas Jefferson, Hamilton."

"Hamilton?" Alexander blinked in surprise, "It's Alexander, actually. I-I thought you'd remember because-"

Thomas got an exasperated look, "Alexander  _Hamilton."_

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, shifting on his feet timidly. "I'm..."

"You can drop it, Hamilton. You've been at this act for the whole school year and, admittingly, it's perplexing on how you can keep up that facade so smoothly," Thomas's voice suddenly grew sharper, less friendly and welcoming then he had been before when they first started the conversation, "Also,  _great_ tactic in the Debate Club."

_"Slow down,"_  Alexander spat out, quickly adding, "please." He raised a hand to gently massage the beginning of a headache out of his forehead, trying to understand what Thomas was telling him. "Isn't Hamilton that guy who got shot over a dumb duel?" He asked.

"... Dumb duel." Thomas parroted with a blankness to his voice.

"Yeah... who did it again? Burr? Look, uh, I'm not Alexander Hamilton- he's like 240 years old now- I'm Alexander Shores." Alexander set his clipped papers into his bag, eyeing Thomas worriedly. He hesitated, slowly leaning in, "Do you need a doctor?" 

"Excuse me?" Thomas's eyes widened, pupils narrowing.

"I heard people with mental disorders have high IQ's..." He trailed on, glancing aside and jolted when Thomas took a sharp step forward at him. His movements felt practiced to him, as though he was forcing himself. "Hamilton, I will punch you so hard in your stomach that you're kidney will shoot out of your mouth."

He nodded quickly, mumbling out a  _yes sir_  and turned his head back down to face the ground. "I... I have a cat that needs food... can I leave?" He asked quietly.

Thomas stiffened in front of him, he could see the slight shift, but then he eased back and crossed his arms. "Yeah. G'outta here."

"Thanks." Alexander whirled, scurrying to leave. He didn't want to see the look on Thomas's face. 

* * *

Alexander practically flung himself out of the small dollar store. He bought two cans of soft food, a bag of meow mix, (sadly) a packet of water, and a whole packet of fruit roll-ups. That was just a level better then fruit snacks. He stifled a sigh, wondering how Finch would react to him only buying two cans of soft food and nothing more of the suspicious food that Finch found holy on all levels of taste. He personally did not think soft cat food tasted good.

He decided to take the long way to his dorm room, because he was more then sure Thomas wasn't located that way. It was just simpler to avoid him, it made his anxiety flicker. Thomas kinda freaked him out with that Alexander Hamilton stuff- he sure as hell hoped he wasn't like that guy. Not that he would know, because he hasn't had the wonderful experience of meeting the guy. Not that he would want to, either. Alexander scrunched up his face, rolling his eyes and huffed. Why would anybody waste their time on contemplating the history of gross old white men? 

_I hate History,_ he thought blatantly. 

"Excuse me," Alexander jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, "Are you Alexander Shores, sir?"  

Alexander blinked in surprise, turning back to the familiar voice and jerked upright. "A-Aaron Bore-- Yes. Yes sir, I am." He stuttered, surprise flooding him. 

Aaron Bore was talking to him. The Aaron Bore! Why? Oh Gosh, was he going to scold him over the debate club? Aaron didn't look mad. He looked calm, if anything.

"I would like to congratulate you," Aaron said, laughing heartily.  

"... Congratulate me?" Alexander asked, confusion flickering.

"For single-handedly turning a debate club upside down!" Aaron said, smiling.  _Oh!_  He started laughed along with Aaron, shaking his head.  

"Yeah! Sorry, it was the first thing that came to my head. I was put in a tight spot." Alexander explained, looking away for a few seconds and slowly looked back.

"It was quick thinking, Thomas likes to pick on the newbies," Aaron agreed, "George was rather pleased you did that, it _eased the tension in the air,_ he said." 

"I'm happy George didn't mind!" Alexander breathed out in relief, earning a curious look from Aaron, "I'd hate to get on any of your bad sides, but... I guess I got on Thomas's," He grinned. 

"Thomas is a hard head, he sets his words in stone and refuses to de-tone himself." Aaron agreed, nodding.

Alexander decided not to call him out on his rhyming, finding it a little... cool. Was cool the word? _Unique._ There we go. Aaron's way of speaking was _unique._ Alexander suddenly wondered if his own way of speaking was unique. 

"Well, at least we both recognize that," Alexander said, smiling, "I'll try to smooth things over with him," He promised, earning another surprise glance from Aaron.  

"Will you?" Aaron asked, his tone edgy.  

"Of course, I spent so long avoiding conflict, I don't want to start it  _now._ " Alexander sighed, shaking his head. 

Aaron's reaction was surprising. He blinked in awe, jaw dropping, than quickly recomposed himself and nodded. "Well, that's a smart plan, Alexander."  

"Ey, keeping quiet and smiling for the crowd only gets you respect, huh?" Alexander said, grinning. 

"... Talk less, smile more," Aaron summarized. Alexander couldn't help but feel like those words belonged on his tongue, like it was a good catch phrase. 

"... Don't eat breakfast after four." Alexander gave Aaron the finger-guns, grinning dorkly. Aaron broke into a laugh, shaking his head. 

"Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for." Aaron corrected, his eyes bright but face steady. Like he was guarding something.

"Oh wow- that sounds a lot better," Alexander started in awe, blinking, "Crap dude, I've never been one for recognizing talent, but, _honestly,_ you can be a poet. Drop out of college now." 

Aaron just smiled at him.

* * *

Jesus, he did not expect to run into someone like Aaron. His heart was still hammering his chest, and what made the night even better? He got Aaron's phone number. He's able to text this man whenever he wanted to. Alexander breathed out, feeling a happy flutter. He made plans with himself to fix things up with Thomas over lunch tomorrow, that would settle everything and he could properly apologize for... calling him... mentally ill.

_Smart move, Shores._

Well, he'll just fix it tomorrow! Alexander nodded proudly to himself, pausing when he heard quiet shuffling and trailed his eyes up.

"Son! I've been waiting for you," _George-fricken-Peterson_ was standing by his door.

Alexander was completely sure that his jaw was unhinged and he was gawking up a storm at the man. George was acting like he didn't notice, grinning proudly and nodding his greetings. He was so- so high and mighty. He was so _cool._ Why was someone so cool spending time in front of his not-cool dorm room?

"S-Sir," He sputtered out.

"Alexander, you and Thomas got in a scruff earlier?" George asked, tilting his head and got the flicker of concern in his eyes. _Oh God--_ Thomas told him! 

"Oh-  _oh..._  Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to offend him. I guess I stepped the line when I asked if he was mentally ill- but-" "You asked if he was mentally ill?" George started, widening his eyes in surprise. 

"Thomas didn't tell you?" Alexander looked up from the ground. He didn't know that he even looked down at it.  

"I heard it from Aaron." George said, blinking.

"... Crap." Alexander said.

_He just ruined his shot with being friends with George._

"Well, I'll be sure to talk to Thomas about your meet up, but actually... I wanted to ask you about continuing debate club." George said, chuckling, almost nervously.

"Wait-- really? But... I, like, ruined it, didn't I?" Alexander started, lifting a brow. 

"Of course not!" George shook his head, blinking, "You relieved tension, the rest of the newbies were more compelled to join in the conversation with a hypothetical debate rather than a real one. It was smart, son." 

"...Son," Alexander repeated, grinning and lifted a brow. 

"Son." George confirmed, nodding. 

Well, it's a weird nickname, but he'll take it. 

"Well, uh,  _dad_ ," Alexander said jokingly, "I... wasn't really going to continue debate club. I'm not really one for speaking up about my opinion-" "Now, don't lie," George said, lifting a brow. 

"Oh- Oh, sir, I'm not," Alexander perked, "I don't talk much in class, if you haven't noticed. I wouldn't have talked in Debate Club either if Thomas hadn't told me I had no choice but to. I really... uh... I like to stay lowkey," He explained. 

"You have to continue," George frowned, "You have an opinion, don't you?" "Well, yes, of course, but sharing my opinion gets it nowhere." 

"Sharing your opinion gets it  _everywhere_ , Alexander." George said seriously, raising his head and straightened his back. "Don't ever say something as ridiculous as that again. I'll see you at the next meeting." 

And with that, Sir George-fricken-Peterson turned around and walked away. Alexander opened his mouth, than snapped it shut and glanced around. Did... did nobody else hear that? He looked back to where George went. 

_Sharing your opinion gets it everywhere._  

Does it really? He frowned, glancing aside, than moved to his room. Okay, he'll participate in Debate Club, then. Even if it's just to start a topic again-- maybe this time, he'll take it seriously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make this fanfiction interact with it's readers! You get to vote for which ship gets to be developed in the fic. The fanfic will be updated twice a week (Tuesday + Saturday).  
> If the votes are even, no ship will be developed in the next chapter. You can vote once per every chapter, it's okay to vote for more than one person.
> 
> VOTE TALLY:  
> Jefferson: 21  
> Burr: 17  
> George: 13
> 
> AUTHOR NOTE: GUYS IF TWO PEOPLE TIE I'LL DEVELOP BOTH OF THEM AS A SHIP
> 
> AKA IT IS POSSIBLE FOR A POLYROMANCE TO OCCURE
> 
> AUTHOR NOTE2: Votes are renewed every chapter! Meaning after this, the votes will have a clean slate.  
> AUTHOR NOTE3: DO NOT VOTE


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